Page 3 of Perfectly Petite Shorts
Buzzing from inside the box met Nirgal’s ears, and his vision narrowed in on the sound, wishing he could see what was within.
Obviously noting where his attention lay and most likely eager to leave the château, LizAnne said, “As I’m certain you’ve been advised, I come bearing a gift from LucroyMoony, King of the Southeastern vampire nest of the United States, and his beloved, Peaches. I was instructed to present the gift to you and no other.” LizAnne shifted and the first hint of discomfort crossed pinched her lips. “The gift is…conditional.” LizAnne swallowed hard.
“Conditional?” Cassius moved closer, his eyes narrowed. They remained ink black, but Nirgal could feel the power surge. “Is this a poor attempt at a joke?”
Nirgal held up his hand. That singular movement silenced Cassius. “My nestling has a point.”
LizAnne bowed her head. “Apologies. I did not mean to offend, nor do I believe it is King Moony’s intention to do so. The gift is not conditional by his terms but by the terms of the gift itself.”
“You speak in riddles,” Gashan admonished.
Nirgal studied the box and the twittering buzz he heard from within. His heart picked up speed yet again.Could it be…? “Do they have one as their designated representative?”
“Sir?” Cassius questioned. “You know what this is about?”
“I hope so,” Nirgal answered and wondered at that single word:hope. He had not had cause to use it within memory.
A smile softened LizAnne’s features. “They do. If you’d allow, I have the necessary charmed earpiece you will require for communication.”
Nirgal stretched out his hand and accepted the small device. Slipping it into his ear, he ignored the slight discomfort. “If you would open the box, please.”
Shifting the box in her arms, LizAnne slid a small hatch to the side. Shimmering light blazed into the night, the cone of brilliance concentrated on that tiny opening. Shooting forward, a sprite immerged from the box, buzzing into the air, the beat of their wings nearly impossible to follow. Spinning once, the sprite descended, landing on top of the box.
Weighted silence filled the air surroundingNirgal. As he only had eyes for the magnificent sprite, Nirgal did not look at Gashan or Cassius. If he had, most likely he would only see what they wished and would be able to interpret nothing. He did catch their combined flinches when the sprite spoke. To them, it would sound like little more than incoherent high-pitched squeaks and clicks. With the aid of the charmed earpiece, to Nirgal, the sprite sounded nothing short of heavenly.
“You are the vampire?” the sprite asked. Their diminutive hands were fisted on their hips, chin lifted and defiantly pointed at the sky.
“I am Nirgal.”
“Humph.” The sprite’s head twisted around, taking in the château’s foyer. The little thing’s disappointment grew. “Everything here is old and dead. We cannot make our home here.”
Nirgal barely suppressed a frustrated growl. He understood theconditionalpart of the gift all too well. Neither Lucroy Moony nor Peaches would ever force a colony of sprites to live somewhere they were unhappy. What sprites needed was forested land.Protectedforested land. All the stunning antiques, ornate decorations, and wealth his nest coveted meant nothing to this being of light.
“This is not where you will live,” Nirgal offered.
“Live?” Gashan asked. “They want to live here?” Because only Nirgal could understand the sprite’s words, Gashan only heard half the conversation.
“If we are fortunate,” Nirgal answered, then held out his hand. “May I show you somewhere better before you decide?”
The sprite cocked its head before offering a firm nod. “It’s worth a look. Give me a minute.” The sprite didn’t wait for an answer before diving back into the box. The chattering overwhelmed Nirgal’s ears and he was unable to parse out the individual comments. Soon enough, the sprite shot out of the exit,and instead of landing on Nirgal’s offered hand, it nestled in his hair. “Show me,” the sprite demanded.
The sound filtering up through Nirgal’s chest was so foreign he hardly recognized it as mirth. “Come, little sprite, let me show you the wonders of our ancient and very well-protected woods.”
“You have a woods?” the sprite eagerly asked.
“A whole old growth forest.”
“And…no sprites?”
“Sadly, no.” Humans had hunted sprites to near extinction. Capturing them and keeping them caged in a mockery of celebratory illumination. Between human fascination and deforestation, sprite colonies were a rarity, and still, they were under threat. Peaches’s own colony of sprites had been relocated to his orchard. It looked like this small colony had been forced to seek the same.
“Were there ever sprites here?”
“Once, very long ago,” Nirgal lamented. He was uncertain what had happened to them. The years had gone by, and one day he noted there were none left.
The sprite sighed. “That is the way of things.”
Nirgal didn’t think it should be, but he could hardly argue.
